


Every inch of you is breathtaking #2

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Cliffs of Existential Regrets, Gross Declarations, M/M, Nudity, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 14:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11991717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: Silver answers a different question than the one Flint asked.





	Every inch of you is breathtaking #2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VarjoRuusu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/gifts).



> I'm really sorry to those of you who are going to be sad at the end of this, but it's going to be pretty Gross™ along the way. Let's all of us get buried up on that cliff.
> 
> (I'm just gonna blame this one on Kat b/c it was her prompt fill ;) )

The cliffs are dark, dangerously so, and were it not for the torch carried by Flint, Silver could easily see himself tumbling down below. Of all the ways to die, the idea of an embarrassing death has never appealed to him. Still, it had been his own idea that they come back to this place, at this dark hour, with the stars as their only witnesses.

The waves can be heard sussurating over the rocks far beneath them. Silver enjoys the stillness, before he sits down upon the usual stone perch, still warm from the sun, and unstraps his fake leg. Then he begins to remove his coat. He felt a fool putting it on in the first place. So much of what they do is done for show these days. 

“What are we doing here?” Flint breaks the silence at last, securing the torch in the sand and walking to stand before Silver.

“You wanted to know me,” Silver says, as he pulls his shirt over his head. The look on Flint’s face is obscured by the night and his own inscrutable expression. The shadows cast by the torch make his eyes look black as pitch. “I could not tell you my story, but I can give you something else,” Silver says. He isn’t wrong about this. He isn’t. If this is a mistake, then surely it is one worth making.

“Wait,” Flint’s voice sounds choked as Silver’s hands move to his belt. “You don’t need to do this.”

Silver removes the belt and lets it fall to the sand, next to his shirt and coat. “I thought we had agreed that pride had no place between us,” he says, fingers unbuttoning his trousers.

“Silver… just…” Flint falls to his knees before him, a supplicant. The look on his face is that of agony and terror, not of desire nor conquest. Still, Silver is not wrong about this. Flint’s hands are slow to move, but when they do it is to land around his hips, helping him pull the rough material down, aiding him in getting the trousers off his legs, adding them to the growing pile on the sand.

Silver grabs the crutch and rises once more. He stands before Flint naked, like a sinner upon Day of Judgement.

“Everything you need to know about me is right here,” he says.

Flint takes a step back. He takes Silver in, his breath catches and rattles within his chest. His own coat is still firmly on and, even by the light of the torch, Silver can see the beads of perspiration pooled above his collarbones. His eyes are huge and obsidian and they devour Silver without Flint needing to say a word. He was not wrong about this.

“Perhaps,” Silver says, his throat parched, “You need not look so closely. This mortal coil cannot stand up to such scrutiny.”

Flint takes a step forward, his hands cupping Silver’s jaw. “Don’t say that,” he breathes, too close to Silver’s lips. “Every inch of you is breathtaking.” As if to demonstrate the point, Flint’s breath hitches again. 

“Perhaps a few inches less of me these days, so to speak.” Heat rises to color Silver’s cheeks even as he speaks, tearing his eyes away from Flint. He cannot be looked at much longer. He needs to be touched.

The light of the torch makes Flint’s beard look like a flickering flame, makes his entire face seem rather Mephistophelian. And if this is a temptation, then it is one of his own making, and Silver has no qualms about succumbing to it.

Silver shivers before he even feels Flint’s hands upon his shoulders, then traveling down his arms in a warm caress. “I love you,” he says. The cliff has given way beneath him and he is falling, falling, he does not know if he wants Flint to save him or to let him crash.

Flint’s mustache catches on his own. Flint’s lips are softer than velvet. Not that Silver had ever kissed velvet before. But kissing Flint should not be this soft. Flint’s tongue is cool against his senses, like the ocean, and just as devastating.

“I love you,” Silver repeats against Flint’s lips. This too is not a mistake. He’s told many lies in his life, but this isn’t one of them. The night knows, the ocean knows, this place knows, even if Flint can never know for certain.

“I love you,” Silver says into the wind, months later, alone upon the same cliff. But the wind cannot answer. The wind cannot love him back.


End file.
